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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567706">True Colours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646'>Charlie9646</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Enbyslash, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kissing, Non-binary Tonks, Nonbinary Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slice of Life, Some Humor, intersex Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:08:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567706</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione had imagined growing up her life going in many different directions, but if she could choose, she would always choose this.</p><p> </p><p>A fluffy moment before Tonks and Hermione</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Nymphadora Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Love Fest 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>True Colours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenpuffLove/gifts">RavenpuffLove</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you Zorak23 for Betaing this for me</p><p>#LF2021<br/>#TeamVenus</p><p>Thank you so much RavenpuffLove for this prompt.</p><p>I tried to be accurate as possible when it comes to intersex people, but I am human and my experience is only from my research. I did reach out to a friend about Tonks’ experience as a non-binary person, but again it’s just one person’s experience and my own research.</p><p>I am a trans man and that might cloud my own experience nor do I claim this as mine. If anything is totally wrong please let me know, but if the only thing you have to say is why did you write X?</p><p>Don’t. Trans and intersex people are a thing. If you don’t like it? It’s not my problem. Please keep your gross opinions to yourself. (Gross comments about LGBT folks will be deleted).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hermione stared out the window of the vacation rental flat, looking out onto the seashore and the tide that was coming in. The water was a dark greyish-blue, the sand nearly bone-white, and the weeds that jutted out of the dunes were a lovely evergreen. The sun had just started to rise, peeking softly through the clouds. The war felt so far away in this instant, as distant as anything had or would ever be. It had been six years since the final battle; most days were simply grains of sand running through her fingers. It was like nothing. But here in this town that the war hadn’t touched, it felt different. This place felt like another planet and she was grateful for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat there at the breakfast table, wrapped tightly in her lavender dressing gown. She tucked her knees up under her chin and sighed. Her tea had long ago gone cold and yet she still took a sip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell,” she hissed, setting it aside. Earl grey tea without honey or sugar wasn’t good to begin with but was even worse when it was cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tugged at her grey wool socks, pulling them up higher on her legs, trying to keep in the little warmth they gave her. The sound of bare feet hitting the tile floor of the kitchen filled her ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s just Tonks,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span> she reminded herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Nothing to worry about.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her wife fumbled around the kitchen, making her breakfast. Neither of them spoke, but there was a bit of comfort in just existing with one another. Tonks clanged a frying pan around on the stove, accidentally dropped a spoon and then a fork not long after. A few moments later, and with more curses under her breath, her breakfast was made even if the eggs were slightly burnt. Tonks walked over and then shoved a plate in front of Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already ate,” she murmured, telling a little white lie that wouldn’t hurt anyone; tea was breakfast anyway, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you did,” Tonks laughed, seeing right through the fib. “A breakfast of bitter tea. You always forget to eat when you are thinking about something, wife.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione sunk her teeth into her bottom lip but nodded in agreement after a moment. She reached for a fork and took a bite of her breakfast. With a wave of Tonks’ wand, two glasses of orange juice floated over and landed softly on the table. Her wife looked out the window and smiled. The sun was entirely up now, making everything seem somewhat golden. She looked over at Tonks, who hadn’t bothered even to get dressed. She wore an overly large white tee-shirt that hung off her one shoulders, showing off her sun-tanned skin. Her bright pink hair barely brushed against her chin and was still wild from their </span>
  <em>
    <span>activities</span>
  </em>
  <span> the night before. Her eyes were a lovely crystal clear blue. Her features were neither masculine nor feminine but somewhere in between the two. It suited her and felt natural; this was the person that she was. Not the mask she twisted her features into to make others more comfortable. Not the red-haired man’s face she had worn a few weeks ago for a case. This was Tonks’ actual face, and it was the one Hermione loved to see most. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, wife.” Hermione stuck her palm under her chin and tried not to smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are the only one who is allowed to call me those things, </span>
  <em>
    <span>those </span>
  </em>
  <span>titles and things. Just like my mum is the one who is allowed to call me Dora.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I am grateful for that, love.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should go into town today,” Tonks remarked, changing the subject. “The kitchen is nearly empty and we can’t continue living off of Indian takeaway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded along but added rather abruptly, “We should, but I want to take you back to bed first. The shopping can wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her wife reached out for her, holding her hand. Tonks’ fingers were long, her palms rough from the hobby she had taken up post-war: woodwork, creating things that silenced her mind. She claimed that being around them settled her mind and soul, and the bitten down fingernails it was her nervous habit. Hermione’s own were small, covered in scars from the war, and her fingernails painted a bright red. They were as different as two people could be, yet they fit together like two puzzle pieces snapping into place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That can be arranged,” her wife said, pulling her along in the direction of their bedroom. “Come, Mrs Granger, I want to make you scream my name.” Their breakfast plates were forgotten. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Is that a promise or a threat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonks turned facing her once they reached their room. “A bit of both.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione rocked up onto her toes, placing a hand on Tonks’ neck and pulled her into a kiss. Her wife’s fingers undid her robe, causing it to fall to the floor in a pile at their feet. The two of them made their way further into their room and to their bed, which happened to be still unmade. It was one of Tonks’ habits that pushed her buttons, but she minded little at this moment. It was just a part of her, like her habit of tripping over her own two feet, laughing as she was telling a joke, and her desire to kiss in the rain every chance they could. Tonks was just Tonks, and she would not ask her to be anyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” she cried out. Tonks kissed her neck and traced patterns along her ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lover pulled away and said, “I love you too.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they first became a couple, Hermione had asked her rather bluntly, without the good sense that had come with time and age, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If you are not a man or woman, nor do you want to be either of them, why do you prefer to be called she and her? I read once that people like you…” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hermione Jean Granger, when you start any sentence with ‘I read something about people like you and? you should stop there. I use them because I live in a world created for people like you and not me. It’s a fact that I am rather acutely aware of. I am intersex, and while I would prefer that people understand that, I have accepted that most will not. Sometimes we must choose the path of least resistance, even if it’s not the one we prefer.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking back, Hermione knew she had been foolish and possibly downright silly, but her wife had been understanding and forgiving. Even with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘insert foot in mouth’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>comments. Tonks sat on the bed looking up at her like she was the most wonderful person to have ever existed. It wasn’t the truth, but no matter how much Hermione argued her case, her wife never agreed. The Hufflepuff was staunch and firm in her opinion: Hermione did not see herself clearly. Tonks might be a Hufflepuff, but she was also a Black, and sometimes it was easier to simply go with it once she set her mind to something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione tugged her wife’s night-shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. She dropped to her knees in front of her and settled between her legs. Tonks’ tangled a hand into her curls, pulling her closer to her core as if to tell her where she wanted her. Hermione kissed her inner thighs instead, causing her wife to growl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get on with it!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will get </span>
  <em>
    <span>on with it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but when I want to,” her tone firm, but she could not help but smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonks reached down and pressed her thumb into Hermione’s bottom lip. “Now, now, be a good girl and do what I say.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shivered at those words, warmth filling her, yet she snapped back, “Now why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not a brat!” Hermione growled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what brat would say.” Tonks pulled on her curls again as if to make her point even more apparent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of responding, she sucked on her lover’s clit, taking it into her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gods, that’s it.” Her knees shook, and her fingers tugged at Hermione’s curls.  “You're just so lovely, too bloody fucking lovely. I don’t deserve you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulled away and said, “I believe it’s my choice to decide that or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same about you,” Tonks sighed. “You do the same thing and don’t you dare deny it, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, I guess we can be a mess together, can’t we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonks grabbed Hermione’s left hand and pulled her up, crashing their lips together. Together they fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs and angles. Tonks touched her everywhere as their bodies pressed together. Her thumb pressed against her hip as she kissed first her neck, then her collar bone, finally taking one of her nipples into her mouth to nip and suck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A whine escaped Hermione’s lips against her will as her wife kissed her way down her belly. Her knickers were yanked off harshly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” she cried. “You know how expensive those are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonks ignored her comment and slipped between her thighs. Sparks danced across Hermione’s  skin, her arousal a fire that felt as if it might burn her up if it wasn’t quenched. It might have been hours that passed or maybe just minutes. Tonks brought her closer and closer to the edge then pulling back when she was right there. Hermione might have pleaded with her to stop. She might have begged her to continue. She did, however, twist her fingers into the sheets as if trying to ground herself to the earth. Her lover toyed with her, playing with her as if she were merely a piano, but then she was there and fell over the edge. Her body tightened down and then loosened itself, leaving her boneless for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After she caught her breath, Hermione asked, “Did you? Or do you want me to take care of you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I came,” Tonks laughed, crawling up and laying down next to her. Her hair was the brightest of pinks now, like the Muggle highlighters Hermione had adored growing up. Her wife snuggled up against her and pulled her close.  “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” she whispered. Tonks wore her heart on her sleeve, or better yet on her hair. Her mood was as clear as day, if you knew her well: pink meant she was happy, blue that she was thinking, red that she was mad, and mousey brown that she was upset. But it didn’t matter what colour her hair was to Hermione; she was still beautiful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So... want to get Indian takeaway for lunch and spend the afternoon sitting on the beach?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you the one who said we should go shopping?” Hermione asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Possibly…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, sometimes you’re so much like a man.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Tonks quipped. “But sweetie? I am many things; I never claimed to be a woman, although I am not a man, either. So Indian or Chinese? Dad said orange chicken is something you have to eat at least once, but mum never let him get it; something about wanting us to eat ‘proper’ wizarding food.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chinese it is,” she said. “But later, I am too comfy at the moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the sunlight streaming through the curtains, in a bed with her lover, Hermione realised in that moment this might not have been the life she had planned growing up, but this was the one that she wanted.   </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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